Dove
by mayonaka-ni-sakayume
Summary: Sometimes people seek comfort in odd places, from unexpected people. (possible future RyouxMalik or RyouxBakura pairings, light shounen-ai)
1. Prologue

Dove

~prologue~

Taptaptaptaptatatatap--- 

That damned rain…would it never stop? It seemed that, in this place, it was forever raining…except, or course, for the winters; wherein it snowed. Natives of the area, or even those who had been there for a little while, would most likely have had a better outlook on the weather conditions than someone accustomed to the parched dry of the desert.

Japan was no place for Malik Ishtar.

At this moment, he was inside, away from the rain and its chill, but still it wore at his nerves. The endless rapping, the constant _shhh_ of drops bursting on the roof and outside the house was making it impossible to think, even on his very favorite subject. Every time he got a particularly clever idea regarding how best to deal with that accursed pharaoh, the noise of the rain would drive it from his mind. Quiet…he needed quiet…and most of the time, it was easy enough for him to come by. His sister, the house's only other inhabitant, shared his appreciation of tranquility and was usually quiet enough---except, he mused now, when she was prattling endlessly on about what her necklace had shown her. It was downright annoying sometimes, useful as it may have been. Besides, that overrated collar had never provided _him_ with any good news.

It was as he pondered this thought that the particular figure in his mind made her presence known, in her subtle way. There was the sound of water running from the kitchen, and moments later the soft hum of a stove heating up. Malik turned where he sat upon the living room couch, glancing back towards the kitchen and the dark-haired girl bustling near-silently through it.

"Tea?"

"Chocolate." One-word question, one-word answer…or so it had seemed, for one moment, and then Ishizu continued. "We'll be having some company soon, and I think hot chocolate would be best." Her brother, well-versed in her mannerisms, recognized it immediately. That tone…it had a cryptic gleam to it, one that seemed to show off the half-smile he no longer even had to look for. She knew something, he didn't, and it would be a safe bet to assume that she wouldn't tell him right-out what that something was. Either he could prod at her for hours, trying to get a sensible explanation, or wait and find out himself. As it were, the rain had him in an unamused mood, so he chose the second option and merely returned to his thoughts.

Eventually, as it did from time to time, curiosity got the better of him. Visitors were not common to the Ishtar household, as neither sibling was especially…sociable. Once or twice Yugi and his yami had stopped by to talk with Ishizu about something or another; she had the good sense to send Malik on an errand beforehand, not trusting or foolish enough to place her brother and the pharoah in the same room, and so he had only found out about these visits after the fact. So it wouldn't be him…most likely none of those wretched friends of his either, the blond punk or the one with the bad hair…and if it was that girl that always followed them around…well…he wouldn't be held responsible for any –unfortunate accidents- involving her and the pointed end of his Sennen rod. With a quiet defeated sigh, he glanced to where Ishizu had seated herself at the other end of the couch.

"So who's coming?" Ishizu perked a fine brow, and for a second Malik had his hopes up thinking that, for once, she'd finally give a straight answer to something. Unfortunately for him, that was not to be today. Instead, she merely sighed and looked to the door.

"Perhaps you should go see for yourself, Malik."

She was impossible. He'd just as soon stay where he was, not in any hurry to greet whatever 'guest' might be stopping in, but there was that tone again. That "I-know-what-I'm-talking-about" voice Ishizu used that made him want to strangle something…or at least go see what she was going on about. The doorbell hadn't been rung, nor had he heard any car drive up, but she was watching him expectantly, and that meant "go on, go see who it is". And so, for lack of anything better to do and feeling somewhat foolish about it all, he did. Over to the door he went, pulling it open and staring out into the rain.

He had been glad, moments ago, to be out of that weather.

Not everyone seemed to be so fortunate, and the rain-sounds that had so irritated him before were the last thing on his mind as a soggy mess of striped fabric and dripping white hair fell forward into his arms.

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(A/N: Welcome to my first ever real, half-decent Yu-Gi-Oh fic! Just a few notes…I follow one of the common systems for naming characters in this. Malik is the hikari, the less evil one…when his hair's all big and evil, that's Marik, with an "r". The cute british one's full name is Ryou Bakura, so generally -and in this fic- the hikari is Ryou and the yami is Bakura. Yami and Yugi are self-explanatory. Oh, and I would just like to say: Malik's opinions in this fic are not necessarily those of the author. Well…er…some of them are. Ishizu talks too much sometimes, Honda has –awful- hair, and…I personally wouldn't mind seeing Anzu come in contact with something sharp. –snicker- Sorry. Moving on. Next bit up soon…and it's not gonna be all short and lazy like this one ^-^;; )


	2. Shelter

Dove

Chapter 1- Shelter

"Ryou…"

Oh…where was he? Somewhere warm…nn…but there was his name, coming from the hazy shadows, trying to wake him. But he didn't want to…he was so tired…

"Ryou!"

Perhaps if he opened his eyes, it would stop…it was worth a try. So slowly he did, eyelashes fluttering until a blur of colors appeared before him. Tan…gold…lavender…and then it solidified, and quite suddenly the blur of colors was now shaped much like a very confused Malik Ishtar. He was with Malik. But why…the memory was as slow to return to him as his consciousness had been. When finally he made sense of his location, he managed a weak smile and closed his eyes once more with a faint murmur.

"M…Malik…I'm…sorry to have troubled you…" This was met with a snort of disbelief, the egyptian unable to concieve that even the ever-polite Ryou could pick this time and occasion to apologize. The boy had showed up at his door almost an hour ago, soaking wet and scarcely still on his feet; and then, even that didn't last long. Ryou had collapsed straightaway and would have fallen hard to the front step if not for Malik's quick reflexes. With a little help from Ishizu, he had brought the fragile youth inside and dried him off some; Ryou now was able to figure out most of this from his unexpected position---laying down on the Ishtars' couch, with Malik kneeling in front of him. And now what could he say? It was just like the pale boy to apologize…and just like Malik to have no response to what struck him as a fairly absurd statement. Relief from the awkward silence came in the form of Ishizu, returning from where she had been in the kitchen, mug of steaming hot chocolate in hand.

            "It's no trouble at all, Ryou-kun. Here…if you can sit up, drink this, it'll warm you up." Oh, that chocolate smelled good…slowly the eyes that bore the same hues as that drink opened once more, but all of a sudden sitting up seemed easier said than done. Seeing the boy's struggling movements, Ishizu glanced over to Malik and made a quick gesture with the hand not holding the mug. She received only a blink at first, then Malik looked curiously at Ryou and somewhat hesitantly moved to his side. In a series of actions very unfamiliar to him, he hooked an arm around his smaller companion's shoulders and tentatively helped him to sit. Still exhausted, too weary to think better of it or question whether this would be received well, Ryou let out a soft sigh and leaned heavily against Malik, leaving the egyptian ever more bewildered. Holding someone, supporting someone, these just weren't things he did. Closeness with anyone had never been part of his life, unless the brotherly bond he once held with Rishid counted. Right now, he wasn't sure he liked it, this feeling of tired human weight nestled against him. It seemed as though the position could have held some comfort, if there was warmth to it…but Ryou was still freezing cold, from the snow-white hair brushing Malik's neck to the little feet that had been stripped of their soggy cotton socks much earlier. And so Malik could do little but look to his sister for some aid, some guidance as to what to do in such a situation. His instinct, in any other case, would have been to make some cruel remark and push Ryou away, but the more he thought about it…when he had caught Ryou as he fell upon the steps, that had been instinct as well. He may not have known why the slender boy had shown up at his door and now leaned upon him, but there had to be a reason, and Malik wouldn't turn him away until he at least found out what it was. Besides…and as he thought further, his more practical mind took over…this was Ryou. Bakura's hikari. If he could take care of him for the moment, the dark-eyed yami would be in his debt. This thought was particularly appealing, so for now Malik would play the friend to Bakura's little puppet. It wasn't a hard game, much like the one he had played before the Battle City tournament under his masquerade as Namu, when he…odd…when he had supported Ryou much as he did now. This was passed off as one of those funny coincidences as the head rested on his shoulder lifted and the wide brown eyes blinked kittenlike up at him.

            "…Malik…" Offering a hint of a smile down to Ryou, Malik reached to take the mug from his sister and once more offered it to him.

            "Drink. It's warm." He needed no second encouragement; in the blink of an eye the shaky hands had wrapped around the mug and were lifting it to soft lips, lips that had faded in color from ice blue to a slightly pinker shade since he had been brought inside. The warmth of the chocolate was a shock to his taste and sent a shiver down his spine. He coughed weakly, lowering the mug for a moment to catch his breath, and Malik responded with a light pat on the back. "Careful…take it slow, Ryou." The gentle words were as sharply unexpected as the heat of the drink, and once more those eyes blinked over at Malik.

            "I…" What could he say? Ishizu had seated herself gracefully on the back of the couch, and here was Malik, holding onto him and offering him kindness…it had been a dream, a fuzzy idea when he ran to this place, but to think of it actually happening almost made him blush. Malik didn't really strike him as the warm type, but here he was…and he was in no mood to question it. Another shaky sip of the still steamy cocoa sent waves of warmth through him, and after a while of silently drinking he was able to come up with words for the ones offering all this help. "Thank you, Malik-san, Ishizu-san…I don't mean to be a burden…" Ishizu gave a shake of her head and a smile as warm as the offered chocolate. 

            "You're not a burden at all, Ryou-kun. Drink up, and---is something wrong?" Ryou's eyes had gone slightly wide, as he now looked down to find himself in a pair of rather loose-fitting jeans and a sweatshirt that was baggy, soft…and not at all striped. Following his gaze, Ishizu laughed softly and reached down to finger the hood on the gray sweatshirt he now wore. "It's Malik's…your clothes were completely soaked, you'd have gotten sick if we left them on you." There was a part of Ryou that was surprised, above anything else, by the idea that Malik owned something that was neither lavender nor skimpy, but this part was pushed to the side as he realized that in order to get into this outfit, his own had at some point been removed. Now he –was- blushing, whether he liked it or not, and Malik just sighed and looked elsewhere. The two of them had agreed…or rather, Ishizu had agreed…that Malik would handle that particular task, being of the same gender as the one having his clothes taken off. At the moment, he'd very much like to think of something other than that, other than Ryou's tiny frame clad in almost nothing…He coughed quietly and quickly changed his train of thought to a more benign topic: continuing his act as a friend and taking care of the boy until his yami came to claim him.

            "How are you feeling? You look whiter than usual." Ishizu shot him a very interesting glare at this remark, but Ryou just nodded slowly, "I'm…cold, that's all. Thank you for the use of these clothes…I suppose it was rather stupid of me to run out in the rain that way…." Then he sneezed, a cute mousey little squeak that was soon followed by a second and a third. Malik's expression of concern grew momentarily more sincere as he looked Ryou over, "…Is that all? You sound sick." Oh, now he was being a burden, just as he had feared…he didn't want to be sick, he hadn't intended to catch anything…although as he had said, it hadn't exactly been his plan to go out in such weather. And now, if he got sick, Malik and Ishizu would have to take care of him…and Bakura…Bakura wouldn't be happy at all…He shivered once more, from his thoughts of the yami as much as from the chill that refused to leave his body. Feeling the tremble, Malik hesitantly allowed the arm around the cold boy's shoulders to pull him slightly closer, and Ryou showed his surprise for only a moment before closing his eyes once more and eagerly welcoming the warmth the other was providing. Still uncertain about the closeness, Malik shot a glance to his sister in hopes of getting some hint as to what came next, but found no answers and so took to idly stroking Ryou's shoulder.

            After a long while of silence, of this awkward embrace, Malik went to ask Ryou for details regarding his arrival there, only to be greeted with…more silence. It didn't take long to figure out that the small British boy had fallen asleep again, and now Malik would allow himself the mildly irritated sigh he had been holding in for quite a while. 

            "Now what do we do with him? I'm surprised Bakura hasn't come after him by now." Ishizu smiled in her infuriatingly knowledgeable way and raised a finger to her lips, tilting her head in a gesture towards the sleeper.

            "Shhh…Ryou needs his rest now. I'm sure he's sick…just look at him, even he shouldn't be that pale. His lips, the tips of his fingers…they're still practically blue. Shall I go put him in bed…or would you prefer to do it?"

            Now what in the hells was that supposed to mean, 'would he prefer to'? As though he had a reason to be the one carrying Ryou to the bedroom…or wait, had she realized what he was up to? Yes…the better he cared for the boy, the more his yami would owe for the services. He couldn't let Ishizu take all the credit. And so he nodded, hooking his other arm beneath Ryou's knees and carefully lifting him. All the way to his own bed he carried the little one, dropping him with a soft thump. Amazing. That had to be the most fragile-looking boy he'd ever seen in his life, especially as he was, in clothes that didn't quite fit and curled up shivering that way. How helpless he was…a thought occurred to him and he leaned down, rearranging the obliviously unconscious Ryou and tucking the blankets around him. He had to stay warm; the longer he looked on, the more he agreed with Ishizu's statement that the boy didn't seem well. Nudging a pillow to rest beneath the feather-down hair, Malik straightened again and stole another, slightly sympathetic glance down at his sleeping companion before walking back out to the living room, where Ishizu had taken a mug of the chocolate for herself and now sat on the couch sipping it.

            "You tucked him in? That was nice of you." Malik eyed her a moment, then shrugged and looked back to the bedroom. 

            "I'm not being 'nice'. Bakura should be here for him soon." When no answer greeted him, he paused and looked once more to Ishizu, a brow perked. "…Won't he?" His sister had nothing to say, then, and Malik found himself cursing her cryptic nature once more as she continued to calmly sip away at her cocoa. The rain danced over the house, Ryou slept, and Malik was once more left to his thoughts.

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(A/N: Not much to say, I suppose. See? Nice long chapter. Or…longer, at least, than the prologue. ^-^ So what do you think?)


	3. Shelter Continued

Dove

Chapter 2- Shelter Continued

In Egypt, or at least the less urban areas, it was common practice for beds to be little more than a cushioned bench against the wall. In the outskirts of Domino, Japan, beds were a little more comfortable, and that sort of comfort was easy to get used to.

It made sleeping on a couch all that much less enjoyable.

This Malik pondered as he sat up, yawning and stretching out a now-sore back. This was proving to be a productive day; the sun was barely even up and already he had added three new names to his mental list of annoyances: both of the Bakuras, as well as whatever Ra-cursed company had manufactured the couch he had slept on. Ryou's yami was currently the one at the top of said list. All through the rain of the previous day and night, Bakura had failed to make an appearance and retrieve his runaway hikari, leaving him at the Ishtar household. The sky had gotten even darker, moon hidden behind the unceasing storm, and Malik had held a quiet argument with his sister about the short-term fate of the white-haired youth who continued to sleep in his fragile little way right in the middle of Malik's bed. Damn….he paused in his inward rants to rub his back some…Ishizu could be morbidly stubborn sometimes, absolutely insisting that Ryou was in no condition to be woken and turned away. Even if this was so, couldn't –he- have been the one to sleep on the couch? That little albino was probably still in there, snuggled into _his_ sheets in _his_ bed, all because that wretched tomb robber refused to come get him. Well…Ishizu had maintained that Ryou stay the night…but the sky had lightened, the clouds diminished to smears of golden-pink, so that night was over. He wanted his bed back now, even if he wouldn't actually be sleeping in it till later. It was the principle of the thing. _His_ bed. With a small nod of determination directed to no one but himself, he strode into his bedroom fully prepared to kick Ryou out. What he saw was both unsurprising and…surprising.

Just as expected, Ryou was curled up amid the bedsheets, still asleep. It wasn't a restful sort of sleep, though, and as Malik looked on the pale boy whimpered and tossed fitfully. His hands were latched firmly onto the sheets beneath them, fingers barely peeking out from the baggy borrowed sweatshirt, and a closer look showed the faint ill blue tinge that still hovered near his lips and fingertips. Malik's feet were light, his steps silent from years of practice…loud footfalls in echo-filled tomb halls were not a common sound, and for good reason. Restless as the little one was, the egyptian's presence wasn't enough to wake him, even when he came to stand beside the bed, hands on his hips in a gesture of mild curiosity and annoyance. Nightmares, it seemed, had taken Ryou; serious nightmares, Malik mused, as the faint mewling whimpers became shaky sobs. A frown slowly came to his lips as he gazed down at the tears streaking down from behind closed eyes…had they always had those dark circles beneath them? Was he always that pale?…And now he realized something interesting; this was the first time he'd ever seen anyone cry. Sure, the pharaoh's hikari had sniffled some when his friends were threatened, but this…whatever Ryou was dreaming of had reduced him to a softly shivering mess of tears.

"Pathetic…" 

The murmur had seemed quiet enough to Malik, but it was just enough to wake the sleeper curled up there. With a few groggy little squeaks, he slowly opened his eyes and the slow flow of tears from said hues came to a gradual halt. The shivering that Malik had until then been blaming on the ill-projected dreams, however, continued even as those blurred eyes blinked sleepily up at him.

"…what…Malik?" He was…in bed…not his bed, these sheets were so much softer than his own…oh, but of course, he had stayed overnight. Another something he hadn't planned on. Great. Wrapping the blankets about him and wincing under a wave of chills, the small teen pushed himself to sit up and offered a weak smile at Malik. "I really have been a nuisance, haven't I?" The polite response, the response someone like, say, Ryou would have given, was 'Oh, no, of course not, don't worry.'

Malik was never one for polite responses. With a shrug, he nodded, arms moving to fold across his bare chest---he was never one for pajamas either, preferring to sleep in little more than a comfy pair of boxer shorts---and replied very simply.

            "Yes." Once again he was blinked at; he was starting to find Ryou's way of expressing surprise a little irritating. Didn't he have anything to do besides flutter those lashes of his? Those…weirdly long lashes…keh. Stupid kid, he wasn't only irritating, he was downright distracting. And…as it were…he was still in _his_ bed. That had to change. Ryou seemed to be thinking much the same thing, slightly awkward to be imposing in such a way as that, and so he worked at pulling himself up to his feet. But something was weighing him down, something icy cold and heavy…and he wouldn't be budged. Suddenly his chest was taken with the ache of a series of coughs, hoarse noises that made Malik a little uneasy. As if on cue, Ryou uttered the simple words that were _exactly_ what Malik didn't want to hear.

            "Malik…I'm terribly sorry, but…I…I think I've gotten sick."

            Oh, that was _perfect_. If Ryou was as sick as he looked and sounded, Ishizu would never turn him out. He knew his sister all too well. They'd have to keep the pale little wretch with them until she had decided he was well enough to be let out of their care. One thing was certain in his mind, though---Ryou would ­­_not_ be staying in the bed. Which was _his_. It was Malik's house, and he wouldn't stand for being sent out to the couch two nights in a row. In a wonderful display of how much he and his sister differed in the areas of "people skills", Malik scowled down at the nervous-eyed boy.

            "Good for you. What do you expect me to do, make you some soup and tuck you in?" Poor Ryou was cold enough before the biting words, and at them he cringed and looked away. That sarcasm was too familiar…not that Bakura would ever admit to having anything in common with Malik, or vice versa. Still, it was that sort of cruelty he had run from; he had not expected to be greeted by it as well, especially considering how kind his begrudging host had seemed the previous night. He hadn't seen it as an act at the time, but now that Bakura had shown his apparent lack of concern---and a similar lack of desire to play into Malik's hand---the game had been dropped. It came to him then, that this was the real Malik, the one everyone knew, and that last night's was an impostor, a role played with one purpose in mind. He'd been betrayed…again…somehow, it hurt more to be mistreated by someone who seemed a friend than someone who never put on such a performance. He said nothing, eyes lowered in anticipation of the tears already threatening to form there, until a gentle voice from the door drew his attention.

            "Actually it's a little early for soup, Malik. Ryou, it looks as though the cold really affected you, why don't you go take a nice hot shower?"

            If Ryou was stunned, Malik was…annoyed. Did Ishizu always have to butt in? He was perhaps five seconds away from officially sending Ryou out of the house, and now here she was, sleepy but wearing a smile, a towel already in her hand; that meant that he would indeed agree to the offered shower. _Keh…know-it-all_. And sure enough, once the youth's surprise at the sudden offer of good will had passed, he managed a weak smile and a nod.

            "…Yes…I think that would do me well right now, thank you very much." Returning the smile, Ishizu made her way to the bedside, shooting one of her significant glares to Malik before leaning to offer a hand and help Ryou stand. Once he seemed to have his feet, he took the offered towel with a grateful smile, letting the elegant Egyptian lead him down the hall to a bathroom where he might freshen up and warm himself some. She returned alone, only to be met with an irritable scowl from her brother.

            "Did you have to do that? He was going to leave." Ishizu smiled…_that_ smile…again, and shook her head.

            "No he wasn't. You saw the state he was in. Give the boy a little more time to recover." It was still first-thing-in-the-morning time now, and she hadn't yet put on the necklace that was the source of so many of Malik's frustrations, but her smile still faded into the thoughtful gaze that usually accompanied one of her charm-induced visions. "…although I have a feeling Bakura will indeed be here before long." Finally, some good news for Malik, who responded with a roll of his eyes and a low mutter, " 'bout time…he can take the little weakling off my hands…" before turning and going off to the kitchen for some much-needed coffee. A sigh passed Ishizu's lips, a nearly inaudible one, as she watched him leave.

            "I never said that's what he was coming for…"

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(A/N: 

Misura: Thanks! That was the thing about Ishizu…she always seemed like she'd be a pain to live with…such a know-it-all with that necklace of hers. And isn't Malik great? ^-^ He's so…heh…when I was writing this I kept thinking of that one Fairly Oddparents ep where Timmy's dad is all, "Welcome to the house…which is MINE. Take a seat…MINE!" –giggle-

Crimson-Eyed-Angel: Ooh…you'll see what happened to Ryou soon enough…

Keisan: Thanks, and…I've never been there either ^^; So I don't know if it rains all that much…but Malik's coming from Egypt, so even a little rain now and then is gonna seem excessive to him.

Notes regarding the Evil Muse of Doom: Mwehehe, and you thought you were rid of the muse…nope…same one that annoyed me all the way through "If I Could Care For You" has been prodding me non-stop with this one. Especially when I have no access to a computer on which to type it ;;; Damn you, muse.

Evil Muse of Doom (we'll just call her Yami, because we are of course lazy): Mwehe.

Yume (author personage): Well Hi Again! Lousy notes, I'm afraid…I can't think ; I've only had two cans of soda today. Anyways, keep reading and reviewing, all you wonderful people out there, and I promise the notes will get better! And if this seems like a weird place to cut off…fear not. Nekkid showery Ryou on the way! XD

)


	4. Icelike

Dove

Chapter 3- Icelike

            Water is water. As it falls, as it bursts in a thousand perfect drops, it has the same feel, the same sound, the same everything. This is the scientific view of things. Anyone who's ever been in the rain, the sort that falls like freshly-melted ice and blankets the world in shivers, knows that that's nothing like the lazy sprinkle of a watering can, or the spontaneous carefree patter of an unexpected summer cloudburst…and that none of these can compare to a precisely heated shower, particularly if you have the feeling that your veins are filled with snow and an inescapable chill is upon you. That was what it was like…even the numbness that had come to be his one and only comfort had left Ryou as he shivered there in the shower, steam filling the bathroom. How long he had been in there he couldn't tell, but it still didn't seem long enough; this time he'd really done it, tried to escape with such haste that he had been chilled through and through, and the icy rain still seemed to linger invisibly on his skin like so many frozen needles…

            But it was getting better. He had to thank Ishizu and her common sense –not to mention her hospitality- the heat of the water was slowly bringing him back, melting away some of the cold from the previous day, and he was glad, if nothing else, simply to have that warmth. Judging by the look Malik had worn when he was woken up, by now he'd surely be back out on the street if not for some sympathy from the other's sister. And maybe that would have been for the best; he wasn't welcome here, he didn't belong in this house. Why had he come?

            ….no…he knew the answer to that. There was nowhere else to go.

            Had he turned up at Yugi's doorstep, he would have been better received, but…that was out of the question. Friendly as Yugi may have been, Ryou was no stranger to the suspicion the boy and his yami couldn't help harboring, the wary glances they'd steal at him from time to time, trying to gauge which side of him held control at any given moment. They thought he was crazy…and if he had to endure that treatment, perhaps he would be in time. Jounouchi would be even worse, still unable to draw a distinction between Ryou and his sadist of a darker half and fairly creeped out by both of them. Honda he barely knew, and Seto…well, that wasn't even worth thinking about.

            Malik was his last option. 

            And now, he'd just been a burden…he should never have run, echoed a voice in his mind, he should have just stayed and taken it, like he always did…

            /_Damn right you should have stayed._/

_            //Bakura!//_

            It was that hiss, that whisper in his mind that sent the meager warmth he had gathered in the shower fleeing from him, replacing it with the ice-blooded terror that nothing else he knew could provoke. Dropping the washcloth that he'd idly been running over his thin marred arms, he instinctively stepped back, trying to run from the inescapable hatred that clawed at his very soul. It was only a moment before that hatred took a form solid enough to truly back away from. The Sennen ring gleamed, unnoticed where it had been set aside on Malik's bed, and Ryou found himself gazing weakly up into the vengeful dark eyes that mirrored his own; the eyes of his yami.

            "Bakura…"

            And those eyes…if Ryou's were the shade of milk chocolate, Bakura's were the same candy---if it were laced with poison. They flashed with their familiar malevolence, but the trembling hikari knew already that this gaze was more piercing than most. He had made a mistake in running…that was far too clear now, as somehow he managed both to pale and to blush under the terrifying glare; he held it, though, in hopes of keeping Bakura's eyes very much above his waist…above his shoulders if he could help it. Fortunately for him, the yami had no vested interest in the body he had left so many marks on, preferring instead to focus his glare into the reddened eyes blinking up at him.

            "You little fool. You really thought you could achieve something by running from me?"

            "B-bakura-sama, I---" The ineffectual stammering was promptly cut off by a sharp slap across Ryou's pallid face, one that knocked the boy back into the wall and temporarily blurred his vision. There was no remorse, nothing but bitter annoyance in Bakura's eyes, whereas Ryou's were slipping slowly from teary horror to the blankness that they often assumed in these moments. Being emotional had never once helped him out of these situations, but sometimes he could force his mind to drift, try to block out the pain in one way or another…He was promptly brought back to reality, though, as Bakura's hand found its way to Ryou's hair, fingers tangling in the dripping strands and yanking him forward.

            "Never defy me," he growled, paying no mind to the yelp that his rough treatment had provoked, "You are –mine-, and if you ever forget that again…" Ryou, who had been awkwardly tilting his head to lessen the tension on his hair, managed only a weak nod and a few quickly spoken words.             

            "N-never…ah…yes, Bakura-sama, I understand…I won't forget…" 

            These were the words that reached Malik's ears as he passed the bathroom, only whispers under the constant noise of the shower, but enough to make him pause and listen. At Bakura's name, he smiled to himself; so that damned tomb robber had finally showed up to bring home his hikari. _Keh…took him long enough…_ And now, from what he could hear, Ryou was in trouble.

A lot of trouble, from what he knew of Bakura. This was going to turn ugly. 

            "Hn…I'll make sure that you don't." There came the unmistakeable sound of a punch, a soft cry of pain, and a solid sound Malik couldn't quite place. As it were, that particular noise was Ryou falling to his knees onto the hard imitation-porcelain of the shower floor, sent reeling by the latest assault. All around him the water fell, stinging the scars and the bruises yet to form, and his weary mind clung to it; perhaps here it could all wash away…perhaps he would be mercifully drowned…but no, not yet, the blows continued to hit, to shake his fragile form, to the point that even remaining on his knees seemed too difficult.

            All this Malik heard. The faint whimpers amidst the whip of the water had little effect on him; he was merely waiting. Once Bakura had dealt with and taken back control of his hikari, they would –both- be leaving his house post haste, and the yami would have the debt of Ryou's care for the previous night hanging over him. Until then, there was nothing better to do, so he leaned upon the wall across from the bathroom door and idly listened. The soundtrack was a repetitive one; thuds, cracks, splashes, and the ever-present background noise of the water.

And then…the water was all there was. The static-like patter, and muffled sobs, and nothing more. To Malik, the sounds of violence had been commonplace, unexciting; but this quiet that followed…it was eerie. Eventually even the soft sounds of despair faded, time passing without the expected opening of the door or the emergence of Bakura. In time, the wait became both annoying and slightly distressing; he had been playing host to the tomb robber and his puppet for far too long already, and at this rate they'd use up all the hot water.

            "Bakura!" He tried the door, finding it unlocked, and made a quick prayer that in all the time that had gone by his unwanted guest had gotten dressed before stepping in. The shower curtain was drawn, and as far as he could tell, Bakura was still behind it in the running water. Amazing. How long could he possibly spend? It should have been obvious this place wasn't welcome to either Ryou or his yami…but apparently that message hadn't come across clearly enough. With a roll of his eyes, Malik coughed through the steam and leaned against the counter, eyes averted from the closed curtain. "Get out of there, tomb robber, you're wasting my time." He had to strain his ears for the next words, whispered in---to his surprise---the soft British lilt belonging to Bakura's lighter half.

            "…Malik…I'm sorry, I…don't think I can stand…"

            Couldn't stand? Hn…Bakura had really roughed him up this time. But why was he hearing from Ryou? The yami should have taken control and marched himself out of there, not delivered a beating and disappeared. It didn't make sense; then that unexpected voice came again. 

            "…please…help me…" The little one was asking for help? From him? Now he knew he had been too hospitable- he had no interest in Ryou's welfare. Apparently, though, two days at his house had given him that impression, and now what was there to do? It came to his notice, gradually, that the steam had stopped pouring from the shower, and Ryou's voice had once more faded into shivery sobs. _Great. They –did- use up the hot water._ Determined not to let any more go to waste, and growing tired of the whole situation, he pushed aside the curtain quickly to lean in and turn off the shower. It could have ended there; he could have walked out and left Ryou…but then he caught sight of the pale boy and froze where he was, hand on the shower knob.

            It was horrible.

            Ryou was curled into a ball, leaning weakly against the far corner of the shower, knees pulled to his chest. The droplets that painted trails across him glimmered coldly, picking out the tragedies that covered his small form. Sick-looking bruises all over him, including twin black-blue stripes down his hips that made Malik's stomach churn; the occasional scrape or scratch, the red etchings that traced his arms; bones that seemed barely covered in the body he had never before realized was so thin…it wasn't news to anyone that Bakura was rough with his hikari, but _this_…this was beyond even his imaginings, and violence was something Malik had a great imagination regarding. This boy had been completely…broken. That was the only word for what he saw: broken. Broken skin, broken soul…he wouldn't be surprised if there were broken bones in that soggy pile of misery. The tombkeeper wasn't one to be bothered by these things…but he had never seen them in such a degree. He almost felt sorry for Ryou…some of these scars were clearly quite old, dating back perhaps as far as his original meeting of Bakura. This had been going on a long time. The shivering boy's slumped posture obscured anything too private, to the great relief of both of them, and Malik slowly managed to turn off the still-falling water. A few drops landed on his hand as the shower stopped, and he shuddered; the temperature had been lowered to the point of unbearable cold. It wasn't just that the warmth had faded…the knobs had been turned, intentionally chilling the water to that point. _No doubt Bakura's doing…_If nothing else, this made him mad. It was one thing to knock someone around, but then to leave him helpless in such a setting…Ryou had nearly caught hypothermia from the rain, a stunt like this could have killed him. _That tomb thief can be such an idiot sometimes…you can't just kill off your hikari. Not without finding someone to take its place, anyways._ Since no replacement was visible, hurting Ryou this way was simply irresponsible on Bakura's part. That sort of thing had always annoyed Malik. He wouldn't stand for it.

            "Ryou…you're sure you can't get up?" The words surprised both of them, particularly the genuine concern with which they were murmured. Slowly the bruised boy lifted his head, turning to gaze weakly at his questioner. Again Malik saw the unfamiliar sight of sorrow; where the water of the shower had evaporated, tears still carved faint trails down his cheeks. He tried to imagine himself taking such abuse and couldn't fathom it…but suddenly this wasn't about him. It was about Ryou, who seemed pained even by the slight shake of his head he offered in response.

            "…I…no, I don't think I can manage it." Suddenly the eyes that already seemed to have too many emotions in them took on a new one, in the form of shyness. "…if you could just…help me up, please…" Slowly, unsure of what else to do, Malik extended a hand, onto which Ryou promptly latched with his own. The Egyptian nearly withdrew, shuddering slightly---Ra, he was cold! Still, he forced himself to maintain the grip, cautiously helping Ryou to his feet. For all his paleness, he still managed a blush, finding the combination of covering himself and standing on his own too difficult to maintain. Letting prudence take precedence over common sense, he managed to stay hidden by his own posture at the cost of his balance, inadvertantly sending himself forward to fall, for the second time in two days, forward into Malik's arms. Once again he was weak, beaten, dripping and cold…this time, however, the faller was nude and the catcher was willing. It didn't bother him so much, holding Ryou for now, just until the boy could get his stability back. He had come to hold a serious grudge against Bakura, and as the saying goes; the enemy of his enemy was a friend. A person only treated someone that way…left so many scars and bruises…if the relationship was one of enmity. By extension, that gave him a slight friendly connection to Ryou. That in mind, he allowed the boy to fall against him, offering his support to the one who so clearly needed it. After all, if he wasn't going to earn Bakura's respect by caring for his hikari…

…he could annoy the hell out of him by doing just that.

            And so Malik held him, waiting patiently for Ryou's stability to return, his recent thoughts making contact with the shaking youth slightly less unpleasant. It was still awkward…and it soon became clear that the lack of clothes involved wasn't helping the matter. With an arm still wrapped around Ryou, keeping him upright, he leaned back to pick up the clothes where they had been dropped and thrust them into Ryou's hands, aiding him to lean on the counter before turning away. 

            "Get dressed." It was a moment before the pale one realized what was being asked of him, and when the thought finally solidified he answered with a quick nod and pulled on the oversized outfit Malik had unwittingly loaned him the night before. When Malik did turn around, though, the clothes might as well not have been there at all. He could still see them in his mind, painfully clear; all those scars, all those bruises and signs of abuse…and he could hear Bakura's voice, hissing threats, denouncing Ryou as pathetic and weak…that was only partially true, he decided now, because without some strength the little one could have never stood up to such torture. Instantly the balance of his respect was shifting; less for Bakura, more for Ryou.

And then something happened. At first it seemed Ryou had lost his balance, or his consciousness, and fallen once more, but it slowly became clear that he was still very much aware. He was just…on Malik. Leaning, resting on him, his hands lifted to clutch lightly at the Egyptian's shoulders. It was startling; but through the masses of lifeless white hair he could see tears slip from Ryou's eyes, hear the shaky breaths, feel him shiver against him…so he didn't push the boy away. Hesitantly, gently…he held him, until it became too much closeness for Malik to bear. When this time came, he helped Ryou to the bed, seating him there, allowing himself to be leaned on a little while longer. Eventually the soft sobs faded, and Malik pulled away, standing, leaving the room to get some thinking done.

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(A/N: 

FINALLY o_o; I actually had this written…like…a long time ago But I couldn't decide if I wanted to keep going in this chapter or end it here…I blame her. *points to Yami/Muse-type-thing*

Yami/Muse-type-thing: *cackles*

_ Er, yes. Anyways, with this out of the way chapter 4 will hopefully be up soon. Hopefully. Again, I'm at the mercy of the evil one.

Yami(etc): *still cackling*

-.-; *baps* Oh shut up. Um…yeah…^^; Hm. Notes. Right. Poor Ryou. He's such a sweet kid…so he gets that  Also, since I don't have the attention span to work on one thing at a time, I'm starting another fic…it's a RyouKura songfic, you'll find out the details soon enough. ^_^

Oh, and continue to leave reviews. I love y'all for it.

-Yume  
)


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